Member-only story
Leaving the house
You think you are a random particle
Apr 20, 2021
You think you are a random particle,
a selected mote, spider silk in goat
milk, tube-grown and farm-raised.
Organic. Circulating around me
like a bait ball in the aqua breeze.
I rearranged the living room
furniture to see you better;
to watch the sun rise against
the brick apartment building.
We share the Saturdays
as an umbrella shares rain. I think
you belong to me. What illusions
do I choose to live with? What
illusions live beyond this? A dance
on creaking floors and wet steps.
© Trapper Markelz 2021
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